


Living Doll

by Predatrix



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Android Roj Blake, M/M, android sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-12
Updated: 2002-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Predatrix/pseuds/Predatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Avalon android, Orac tempts Avon into a new technical challenge. Which would be all very well if he didn't keep finding it mysteriously frustrating. And then the android's original finds out..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Doll

It started as a cross between an extra tech project and a joke.

_The last thing we need’s extra rebels running around underfoot needing to be rescued,_ was his first thought about the Avalon robot. On the other hand, the programming was nearly comprehensible and very interesting. However, an extra Avalon wouldn’t be any use to anyone, except Gan, who had become droopily sentimental about her and would evidently have loved a more romantic version without the politics.

_About as likely as Blake without the politics,_ he decided, and _what would Blake be like without the politics, anyway?_ shortly followed by _Hmm. Could be interesting._

He thought no more about it, because he was a practical man and he knew he couldn’t do more than the most basic “pick up this, drop that” with such an incredible machine. And it was immoral anyway. Not that he cared about ethics.

A few weeks later, he acquired an even more incredible machine. He told it about the Avalon android, and it (being rather like him) thought “Hmm. Interesting programming problem.” Then he happened to acquire some top-secret Federation files including some of the tech specs for the Avalon android. Oh, not everything, but enough to get a better idea of it. Unbelievable piece of work, even more when one saw some of what was behind it.

At that point, Orac began pestering him to build one.

“The last thing the universe needs is another Avalon. And look what happened to the last android,” he told it.

“Well try somebody else then!” it snapped waspishly. Despite the fact that its tone of voice reminded him of one of the more annoying maths dons at university, he actually considered the question.

Gan--well, as with Avalon, one was more than enough, really. Vila--he’d never have the chance to put anything down for a moment before it was nicked by one of them, who would promptly blame the other. Blake--oh god not _more_ speeches!

Then he got an idea of what Blake could be doing, with him, if not plagued by the necessity to make speeches. The copy would never have to meet the original--the orator could be rabble-rousing on-planet, while the copy could be rousing him. In bed. It was a ridiculous idea, but an extremely interesting technical problem. Besides, Orac wouldn’t stop going on at him about the idea. It wasn’t as if it was impossible to build a more erotic version: a couple of extensively perverted databanks would take care of giving Roj the Second some extremely apolitical ideas.

After a week of being pestered by both Orac and his own imagination, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to look at the specs. Maybe work on a couple of circuit boards. Perhaps he could start downloading the aforementioned extensively perverted databanks. And after that, maybe design a few externals—now the skin was an interesting problem. He wouldn’t put up with anything less than soft and warm. Those evil bastards had had it down pat with the Avalon android, because nobody had guessed. Had they left any hints?

_Ah,_ he thought ten minutes later, _that was how they did it. With extreme difficulty, in fact. Maybe I could start with some of the easier bits. Like the brain._ He started working on that, not that it was much of a challenge as it was going to be fairly much a porn-vid version of Blake, while an acceptable version of humanoid skin was still growing in the vat under the bed, and while he started to disassemble a child’s toy parrot he’d picked up to see how it was programmed. It could say, “yes,” “no,” and “Polly wants a cracker”. He worked on “yes”, “yes, yes, yes!”, and “Roj wants a fuck”. “No” wasn’t going to be in there. Obviously. He did, however, give it an extensive vocabulary of sexual activities, and a few words it could use to praise him.

After a couple of weeks, the skin was still in the tank. This was intentional. He’d never be able to resist test-riding the bloody thing if it looked convincing. The android had some fleshy padding, a large Blake-like shape, a voice (Blake hadn’t been bright enough to ask why Avon wanted those tapes of his political speeches), a large Blake-like cock, and an adequate, if... _specialised_...brain.

The rest of the padding, plus the skin grafts and final preparation, could run overnight, which he’d prefer. There would be something a little creepy about watching “Blake” be put together.

He didn’t sleep particularly well. Various wet, fleshy, stretching-and-bending sounds went on in the darkness, and he wished he hadn’t seen that werewolf vid when he was fifteen. He went to sleep, eventually, mainly by force of will.

Orac woke him up, luckily, chattering about didn’t he want to test the android. At least that meant he wasn’t woken up by the Blake-facsimile jumping on him. He took the key out, and threw it across the room.

“Yes,” said something that sounded like Blake. He rather wished he’d worked on the vocabulary, giving it at least “good morning”.

“Roj wants a fuck,” it told him. He tingled all over, embarrassed, amused and aroused at the same time, and finally looked up.

Quite convincing, as far as the face went. Down a bit. Oh, very nice. He was glad he’d seen Blake naked, seen enough of Blake’s hairless chest to borrow it for his own immoral purposes. Down a bit. Time to go a little lower. _Oh. My. God._ Avon’s jaw dropped.

He realised instantly what he’d done wrong: that rather optimistic estimate of a well-endowed Blake had now got a little extra padding, and the skin graft, and he hadn’t corrected down for that, which meant he’d ended up with something slightly off the scale. Rather too big to use, probably. Definitely oversized. Pity, he’d have to do a few minor alterations to that before they could...

Damn. He’d been moving his hands while trying to work out where he’d got the size wrong, and it had been programmed to respond to gestures. Now he had an armful of something remarkably difficult to distinguish from warm, aroused Blake. How was he going to explain to something with only the most rudimentary consciousness that it was too big and would need a few changes made before he....

He sucked in a breath. _Those fingers are quite big as well._ He’d left a container of lubricant on the bedside table the night before, to aid in whatever he had intended to do with the android, and now, with a couple of enormous fingers sliding into him, he remembered he’d programmed the thing to use lubricant. Which it was now doing, rather extensively. Well, it had been a sensible idea to tell it to, but really he’d need to make a few alterations before he let it go any further.

“Look, you’ve got to...” he said, not being able to get the word “stop” out, considering what the fingers were doing inside his body.

“Yes,” said the android, and went on doing it.

“I can’t...it’s physically impossible...” he said, the last word trailing into a whimper as the fingers rubbed back and forth.

“Yes,” said the Blake, as if it were agreeing with him, and continued.

“Down, boy,” he said, and managed to suppress a hysterical giggle.

“Yes, yes, yes!” it said, and came out with an erotic groan he’d quite forgotten he’d put in, and which made it even more difficult for him to think.

“Be reasonable,” he said to the Blake. “Something, something that large won’t...” my god he’s nearly got his damn hand up there! he thought, panicking as he realised his body wasn’t cooperating with his perfectly sensible desire, desire to, to stop doing this. Not that he was doing anything. Well, he couldn’t. Apart, that is, from nearly panic as the android, with its superhuman strength, withdrew its fingers gently and then lifted him up and pulled him down on top of it.

_It’ll kill me!_ he decided, and _why couldn’t I have thought to put in a way to make it stop doing something as...well...as...start..._ he went on, thoughts slowed down by the indubitable fact that it was doing it. Breaching him carefully with something larger than even those fingers.

“Stop!” he said, in a hoarse voice approaching a sob. He couldn’t stop himself relaxing: it was going to stop hurting any time now, and _then_ how would he persuade the thing to stop?

“Yes,” it said reasonably, and entered him a little further.

“You’re going to kill...don’t...oh _fuck!”_ he said, as it went in somewhat more thoroughly.

“Fuck,” agreed Roj peacefully. “Beau-ti-ful fuck, yes.” It growled, and began to suck his neck. Then it angled its cock just right to nudge then slide against his prostate. All the way in.

“Stop...don’t...stop!” he moaned, a little confused and abruptly far less concerned that this was probably going to kill him. _It’s my fault for programming it to move exactly how I like,_ he thought, with difficulty.

“Yes,” it agreed, with another merciless thrust.

What _was_ going to make it stop? He hadn’t programmed it to be able to have an orgasm, partly because adding a fluid chamber and the plumbing would have been more difficult, and partly because, well, it would make it a bit _too_ real. It was a toy, and he wanted to keep that in mind. Ah. He’d programmed it to stop when _he_ came. Not difficult, considering the way he was feeling, but he wished he’d programmed a “deflated” mode into that cock.

“Make me come,” he ordered it, and it went still, apparently awaiting further instructions. He spared a moment to wish he’d given the thing more of a brain. “Touch my cock,” he told it, and it slid a large firm and conveniently prelubricated hand into place. Where it stopped. He _definitely_ wished he’d given it more of a brain.

“Beau-ti-ful big cock,” it said. He was surprised to find he found the flattery erotic, considering the thing was too stupid to make invidious comparisons. Now, time to get down to business.

“Do this to my cock,” he said, illustrating with a rather shaky hand gesture. “Keep doing it until I come, then let go,” he specified. It could get rather painful if the thing went on too long.

Rhythm—perfect, and that incredible grip couldn’t have felt better if he’d...well, he _had_ programmed it himself. Even with a few extras, he remembered, as it rubbed a wet thumb over the tip at the same time as its cock shoved in behind. He couldn’t order it to do anything now, so damned close he couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, and it just kept on rubbing him as he panted and moaned and gasped, as the orgasm came rushing up to meet him and--

He gave a yell of mingled pleasure and outrage as the bloody thing let go just as he started to come, grabbed for his own cock and squeezed frantically _(fuck! that’s better!),_ feeling himself clenching onto that immense cock in spasms, coming and coming and coming until he’d finally had enough.

The damn thing had blanked out when he came, so, after a few minutes gasping for breath, he said “Activate.”

“Roj wants a fuck,” it said.

“I know all about that, you’ve just had one anyway, and I’ve something more important to tell you. For future reference,” he went on, “when I tell you to do something until I come, go on doing it until I _stop_ coming.”

“Yes,” the brainless beauty told him, although it was anyone’s guess whether it had understood.

“Now move your cock. _..gently..._ out of me,” he said, wincing. It followed orders enough to go slowly, but the experience still hurt like hell. White with the considerable discomfort of it, and the fear of injury that had returned full force afterwards, Avon waited while it extracted itself. _Why couldn’t I have just used a bloody dildo. Normal-sized,_ he thought morosely. He was shaking by the time it got out, and for some reason he felt melancholy as well as pained. He slapped the thing on its face, and it didn’t react.

_Hell of a time to get post-coitum triste,_ he decided. _I didn’t think it applied to messing about with sex toys._ But he wanted something, and it couldn’t be sex, because he’d just had that. He felt frustrated, though certainly not sexually frustrated. Well, time to get on with life in general.

“Check me,” he commanded.

Luckily, he’d remembered to give it some minimal medical training, relating to checking any after-effects of fucking him. Mainly because it was so difficult to keep an eye on it oneself, and this was easier than building some sort of periscope arrangement. He was grateful for his own forethought as it gently and clinically spread him.

“It tear skin,” it said.

He’d been afraid of that. “Extent?” he prompted it.

“Small,” it said.

“Cover the tear with antiseptic cream,” he told it, and when it had done that, he took it into the shower and did his best to clean up both of them.

Clean, he brought it out into the main room and deactivated it, adding a few details to its programming now it was docile, mainly to do with understanding negatives. He left the cock’s erect size the way it was, and programmed in a rather clever way to let it detumesce to something more normal. He didn’t mind being fucked by something that excessive, but he drew the line at it hurting when it came out. He tried it. Tiny. Which was only useful afterwards, but if he’d programmed it right...

He tested it. “Up,” he said, and it swelled into the familiar vastness. “Down,” he said, and it shrank obediently. Good enough.

“At rest,” he said. It didn’t breathe, didn’t react, didn’t do anything. Since it was his toy, that was acceptable.

He went and lay down for a bit. When he felt rested, he opened a cupboard with a computer-controlled lock even Vila could not open (he’d tested it by putting his good brandy in there for two months, so he was fairly sure). He walked the unconscious android there, practically having to move its feet for it, and folded it in in a sort of crouch. This was one secret he wanted to keep.

 

Blake had, somewhat earlier, become suspicious. Avon was getting a particularly smug, secretive expression lately. _That’s worrying,_ Blake decided, _and he seems to get more so when he looks at me._ It was Avon looking at him that bothered him. Not the covert sexual attraction: he rather enjoyed that, and any time Avon felt like making it a little _less_ covert was fine by him. More as if...Avon knew a secret. About Blake. And whatever-it-was might also involve Orac, because Avon seemed to have Orac in his room a lot more often.

Then Avon asked for some of Blake’s political speeches. Not a poster to use as a dartboard, an audio recording. What in space could he want with that? He’d even asked politely. Blake asked him what he wanted them for, and Avon just reacted with a more intense version of his I-know-something-you-don’t expression, and left, the recording tucked under his arm.

_Whatever it is, it involves me. He won’t tell me, but I bet I know what will!_

The next time Avon allowed Orac onto the flight deck, Blake was there. Choosing his moment carefully when he’d just finished late watch, Blake picked it up and took it to his own cabin.

When he asked Orac what was going on, it emitted a peculiarly unpleasant whirring noise which went on for a long time. Could that be a computer’s equivalent of sniggering?

He kept asking, doggedly, and after a while, probably because he wanted to be left alone, Orac told him.

He did not believe it. _“Avon?_ Avon’s designing a robot version of me to use for a _sex toy!”_ he thundered indignantly.

After telling him that his belief or disbelief was irrelevant, Orac finally said, “Would you believe the evidence of your own eyes, Blake?”

“Well, he’s hardly going to let me watch, is he? Not that I’m admitting for a moment it’s a possibility.”

Orac said, “He is intending to put the machine on-line the day after tomorrow. If you are interested, I will request Zen to video the events in his cabin that day.”

“It’ll show precisely nothing,” Blake said confidently. “I’m sure you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here, Orac.” After all, Avon did have _some_ morals. He’d never expressed a desire to own a slave, anyway. A creature that couldn’t say no to him, couldn’t choose for itself.

He put the matter out of his head until he awoke late one morning to find a vid in his inbox. “Play,” he told Zen, expecting to find the usual Avon-tinkering-harmlessly-with-tech version of events.

His eyes widened with shock as something with his voice said, “Yes.”

“Pause,” said Blake, and went and got himself a very large glass of whisky.

“Play.” He’d always rather fancied seeing a naked randy Avon, and even if the circumstances weren’t quite what he would have wished, it was a very nice sight.

Avon had a very odd expression on his face, a cross between sexual arousal and terror. _Well, I’d be terrified if I saw something that big,_ Blake decided, _and it’s not aimed at me, even if it’s giving a good impression of being attached to me._ He glanced down at his lap. No: even showing distinct pleasure at the view of Avon he was getting, he wasn’t that size.

He was fairly sure the size of that erection was a mistake on Avon’s part. Avon kept trying to get the machine to _stop,_ for one thing. Not as if he wasn’t aroused, more as if he was desperately wondering where all that cock was going to _fit..._ He’d never seen Avon quite that much at the mercy of events. All the Blake-machine seemed to be able to say was “yes” or a selection of rude words. He almost laughed, a scandalised moment of humour because he realised Avon had got something without the ability to say no, and the only person it seemed to be hurting was himself. To his own surprise, he wasn’t having a bad attack of ethics at the prospect of a sentient being reduced to slavery. This thing might look like himself, but it was so clearly a sex-toy without human reactions he found it impossible to think of it as similar to human. It had less of a personality than Orac, although considering Orac’s personality that could only be a good thing.

Avon himself was saying no, increasingly desperately, but the machine just grabbed him, shoved him up in the air, and lubricated its fingers.

Avon’s expression looked more like “help!” than anything else now. Blake got up out of his chair, moved by the confused desire to rush to Avon’s cabin and help him out of the mess he’d got himself into, when he realised that with the time-lag of a vid he wouldn’t be much help.

As he stood there wondering whether to stop the vid, go to Avon’s cabin and ask if he needed a bit of help in medical, or simply go and get on with something more sensible, another development took place on the screen in front of him. The Blake-machine pushed, and evidently got all the way inside Avon, pulling him tightly down.

Suddenly, an expression quite far away from “help!” began to make itself at home on Avon’s face, and his cock got even harder.

Blake sat down, slid a hand absently down the front of his trousers, and watched Avon moan and wriggle. A hand remarkably like his own was stimulating Avon’s cock, making it easy to duplicate those movements and imagine it was him, imagine how Avon would moan as he rubbed the head of his cock (not that he had to imagine that moan, he could hear it in front of him, and very nice too). He loved the way Avon looked so _exposed_ while he was fucked like that. He couldn’t see much more than the reddened and enthusiastic tip of Avon’s cock as it moved in his (not his) hand, but the rest of his body, the way he moved, and above all his face, were all showing how helplessly he gave way to his own pleasure. Avon was getting close now, everything showed that, and Blake gulped a breath as he saw how wet Avon’s cock was getting, even imprisoned in a fist, and speeded up his mimicry.

He just groaned a little, when he came. Avon was making enough noise for all three of them.

Through sex-blurred eyes, but slightly less distracted, he began to watch with less of an ulterior motive. To his relief, Avon had had the sensible thought of getting the machine to check him for injury, and didn’t appear to have been harmed.

Blake noticed that the machine still seemed to have an erection. Sensible, pragmatic Avon obviously saw no necessity of including such a function as its orgasm, since the purpose was his own pleasure, but...didn’t that mean it was uncomfortable getting out?

The same thought had evidently crossed Avon’s mind in the complex agony of freeing himself from the overblown erection. He neatly programmed in a few alterations, then:

“Up,” he said, and it was erect. “Down,” he said, and it was small and limp.

For some perverse reason, Blake recalled a snatch of an Ancient cartoon vid he had once seen, where a fat yellow-skinned and very stupid man performed extremely repetitive actions with every evidence of pleasure. He now had an image in his mind of this Homer (the Ancients had such silly names) dopily repeating “Cock go up, cock go down, cock go up, cock go down...” It took him some time to stop laughing.

 

Avon found some circuitry to work on behind a recessed panel, for his first work of the day. This afforded him the ability to concentrate without sitting down. He got on with it unhindered for about four hours.

“Oh, _that’s_ where you are, Avon,” Blake said, behind him. Startled, he nearly hit his head. He noticed his cock was tingling reminiscently. _Not him, you fool!_ he told it.

“Can’t you hear me in there?” Blake went on. “Should I slap you on the rump to draw myself to your attention?”

Avon backed out hastily.

Blake was grinning. He _couldn’t_ have any idea of why it would be a particularly bad idea to slap Avon on the rump at the moment.

“What do you want, Blake?” Avon said, in his most flat and unwelcoming tone.

“There’s a computer needs clearing. At a distance. Knows rather more about us than I feel comfortable with.”

“You don’t need me for that, why didn’t you ask Orac?”

“Haven’t been able to find him today. Have you been saving him for any tricky tech projects?”

Avon bit his lip. “Oh yes, it did happen to be in my cabin. I’ll go and get it if you like.”

“You’re being very nice, Avon. What have you been up to lately?” _He can’t have any idea, but...my cock can remember quite well, and it thinks it was with him. Damn. _

“I am not being ‘nice’, Blake. I just know that you’ll go away quicker if I help.” Avon hurried away. In his cabin, he spared a quick glance to his cupboard: no sign of tampering, Blake couldn’t have got in and found out. Then he picked up Orac and hurried back.

To his fury, Blake kept him there to check that he was asking Orac the right questions. Not only that, but he seemed to have picked up Avon’s own trick of invading personal space. It was a little...distracting, after some of Avon’s recent experiences. Nothing he could complain at Blake for, no more than the occasional brush of arm against arm, but it reminded him... He just couldn’t do anything about it.

After about half an hour, Avon said. “I need to get myself some lunch.” He wasn’t all that hungry, but he could do with a moment alone to unruffle himself.

“What a good idea,” said Blake, and walked beside him, sitting down as if companionably on the hard little stool while Avon went to the food machine. “Bread and soup’ll do me, Avon,” he said casually. Fuming, Avon dialled up two bowls of soup and two hunks of bread, skidded one lunch across the counter to Blake, and sat down on the other uncomfortable little stool. Blake was uninhibited about eating. Noisy and greedy, and quite unselfconscious about un-Alpha-like activities like dunking the bread in the soup or licking splashes off his chin.

Steaming gently with repressed fury, Avon dealt with his own lunch quickly and neatly, and left Blake still eating. To his relief, he remembered where he had left the less lecherous of his private projects, and went to tinker with it in peace. If he concentrated hard enough, he could forget about his cock.

He worked uninterrupted for the rest of the afternoon. After an early, hasty and unpleasant meal (the food dispenser never quite understood about fish, and he kept meaning to reprogram it), Avon hurried back to his cabin, where he thumped his thumb onto the fingerprint plate for the cupboard, opened it, and manhandled his prey onto the floor.

“Roj wants a fuck,” it said. It made scooping movements with its fingers. “Where wet?” it said.

“No,” he told it firmly. “No fuck.” He’d have to deny himself that particular pleasure for a few days, and he didn’t want anything so difficult right now.

“Yes,” it replied, probing a dry thumb behind him. He wriggled aside.

“No,” he said. _“I’ll_ fuck _you.”_ He hoped to hell he’d remembered to put in about transitive verbs. Apparently so, because it rolled over. Spreading the buttocks roughly, he plunged straight in, not stopping until he was balls-deep in the hot wet depths of it.

“Fuck me,” it said.

What was left of his mind went up in flames. Two hard strokes, and he was coming, into something that clenched blessedly tight and just let him have what he wanted.

The puddle that was left of him came very slowly back to consciousness, _I just fucked Blake rigid,_ and _that was good_ being the first phrases to drift up into view. He’d done it a bit too hard and fast, for some reason, but he could...

_Damn,_ he thought, finding something altogether too small and limp underneath “Blake”. He could, of course, order it hard, but that seemed pointless considering it couldn’t come. And the limpness had just ruined the mood. He scrambled out and up. It looked--switched off, not as though he’d just fucked its brains out and it was happily dazed. He felt disgusted, for some reason. After gloomily kicking the android, which failed to react, he had a shower, put his toy away in the cupboard, and went to bed.

_Another thing to cross off my list_ , he thought. He’d tried fucking it and being fucked, and for some reason he still felt bloody miserable afterwards. He couldn’t fault the technology, and the expensive self-lubricating plastic was worth every credit if the user was in a hurry, but he just wished his subconscious would come up with the goods about which particular fantasy wasn’t being fulfilled so he could get it satisfied. _Maybe fellatio tomorrow,_ he decided, and went to sleep.

 

He got up early the next day, not to oblige other people but himself. Considering what his latest idea had been, he needed a little more work on the toy.

The easier part of the work was stripping the toy’s cock down and removing a lot of excess padding. Then he took a deep breath, and began to plumb in some tricky, fiddly little feed lines. This was as bad as he’d thought it would be when he’d made the relatively sensible decision not to bother.

Two hours later, he plumbed in the fluid reservoir, filled it with an edible solution with extra vitamins, and fitted a discreet little switch behind the android’s balls. If the evening went as planned, he might have a certain amount of difficulty getting it to respond to voice commands.

Then he put some but not all surface padding back on it. Nice though something outside his normal frame of reference had been that once, he intended to be able to move when wrapped around it. There. Now it looked pretty much like Blake’s. Large, but not deformed. Perfect.

He sighed. It was late enough in the morning that he couldn’t really justify fitting in a quickie before he did something sensible. He told himself firmly to test it when he got back.

Then he went and did a long and virtuous day’s work, almost completely succeeding in forgetting about the treat he had lined up.

He nearly knocked Blake down flat as he rushed back at the end of the day. “Flat” was not an adjective that could have been applied to himself at the time. _Not him!_ he told his recalcitrant body again. He did his best not to do anything suspicious, and simply fled without a word.

Panting, dizzy with lust, he just leaned up against his locked cabin door, rubbing his cock and wondering for a moment whether to just stroke himself off instead of doing anything more complicated. _No. Waste of good programming,_ he decided, and opened the cupboard. He unfolded the android, activated it, and led it to the bed.

_“Roj wants a fuck,” it said. I really must work on the vocabulary. Later._

It lay down and opened its legs when he asked. _Well, that isn’t going to do anyone any good,_ he thought acidly.

“Up,” he said. _Much better..._ Oh, _this_ was going to be worth all the extra effort. Still a damn good handful even when it was slightly reduced from the original ridiculous size, it felt very good. He stroked it gently, admiring his own attention to detail. Every vein, every touch of colour: he’d even simulated the foreskin reasonably, so that it moved slowly and temptingly as he touched it, just as a real man would. Not nice and wet, unfortunately; he ought to have thought to give it a certain amount of preliminary leakage to simulate arousal. On the other hand, considering his own mouth was watering just looking at it, that might not be a problem. He’d wanted to taste it all day.

He moaned around it. It tasted very slightly plasticky, but the feel of it was wonderful. He wanted it to thrust, make a reasonable show of enthusiasm, but he’d have to stop to ask that. Instead he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force all inconvenient thoughts to the back of his mind. It was bliss to have a mouthful of cock anyway, it had been far too long since he’d done this. If he moved just right, back and forth, reality blurred and Blake was thrusting it in. He could hear the wet sound of the cock moving into his mouth, the mumbled noises of himself trying to beg for more around it, and yes _this_ must be what he was after, he was sobbing with need to have Blake, have Blake come in him, only one very small vestige of his mind being aware of reality as he groped Blake’s balls.

Salty liquid began to trickle into his mouth very very slowly, with only slightly more force than a dripping tap. He gulped it down, but that lack of attention to detail had ruined the mood. _Why didn’t I check the bloody pressure before I tried it?_ he thought.

Freeing himself from it, he fell back on the bed and gasped. He looked accusingly at the android, which looked back. It wasn’t at rest yet, because he hadn’t come, but it didn’t look either welcoming or satisfied. “Roj wants a fuck,” it said blankly. _Stupid, stupid machine._ He still wanted to come, and he felt almost ready to burst into tears from sheer tension, wrenched out of the fantasy as he had been.

“Roj wants a...” it said.

He flung himself onto it. “Is that all you can say?” he snarled.

“Roj wants a fuck,” it said calmly. _It couldn’t even say “yes” to give me the illusion I’m participating in a conversation._

_Well if it wants fucking it’ll get fucked!_ Avon snarled to himself, wrenching it spread even more forcefully than he had the last time, and penetrating it brutally as he sank his teeth hard into its shoulder. He was so angry he wanted it to react, but it gave precisely no response to the bite, just clenched its arse in practiced spasms as he approached orgasm.

He almost chewed a piece off it as he came. The pleasure was intense but brief. Afterwards, he felt even worse. He looked at the toothmarks, which made the thing look even less human than it had, especially as it looked so blanked-out after fulfilling its function.

He scrambled out of it, spat in its face, and threw it in the cupboard.

Then he went to bed. Despite the fact that the room’s thermostat read exactly the same as usual, he felt cold. Crumpling himself up into a ball, hugging his knees to keep warm, he fell miserably asleep.

He left the thing tucked away for a few days. It had become less enjoyable to play with, for some reason. And the aggression he was capable of frightened him a little. It wasn’t something erotic or understandable like playing sadomasochistic games; somehow he’d really wanted to hurt the thing. He was not willing to play with ideas of torture or necrophilia, even in the hopes of finding that fugitive fantasy of his.

So, once he’d healed up, he intended to get thoroughly and comprehensively fucked. If that didn’t do the trick as regards his mysterious fantasy, maybe it just wasn’t meant to happen. He did have _some_ standards. Sooner than finding himself doing something really unpleasant with his toy, he’d prefer to set it aside. However, it seemed a shame to do so without getting himself fucked more comfortably than last time.

Once he’d made the decision, he patched up the skin on the toy’s shoulder and put it neatly in the cupboard. Another long day’s work, during which he was relieved not to happen to meet Blake, and he was hurrying home for his final romp. All right, he’d tried being fucked by it before, and it was rationally likely to end up with him being miserable, but he was going to get a lot of pleasure before that happened. And treat himself to plenty of foreplay to delay that evil moment, if it happened.

This time, as it said “Roj wants a fuck,” he smiled. Then he lay back and waited while it lubricated its fingers and worked them into him, although he did have to encourage it to continue with the foreplay a couple of times. Hardly surprising, considering he’d put a rather ungenerous default of five minutes into the original dataset. He’d forgotten how much he liked taking his time occasionally.

“Avon, have you got a moment?” it said. He would have sat bolt upright if possible. _I didn’t give it the ability to speak in sentences. About ordinary things._ A couple of seconds later, he realised the voice was coming from the vicinity of the door.

“What do you want, Blake?” he said between moans and whimpers, trying very hard not to be embarrassed.

“Wondered if you had my 0.03 laserprobe.”

Avon, being probed by three fingers, each of which had a greater diameter than 0.03, tried very hard to say something sensible and failed.

“Are you all right, Avon?”

“Of course I’m all fucking right!” he snapped.

“Fuck,” agreed the android. _Damn keywords..._

“What was that?” asked Blake. “Look, can you just let me in and I’ll look for it myself.”

He knew when Blake was being obstinate it was usually sensible to just go along with it, but considering the facsimile of Blake-being-obstinate that was already in here....

He wrenched himself, snarling, away from the fingers. It was difficult to think, he just wanted to go back to bed and get on with it, but...

_The toy! Get it out of sight!_ He bundled it up, flung it into the cupboard, and made sure the door was locked, never do to let Blake rummage around and find that...

_Clothes, quick, anything!_ A dressing-gown. He tied it closed, and hoped it would hide his erection.

He opened the door, trying not to gasp.

“It’s only seven o’clock, Avon. I didn’t realise you’d have gone to bed.” Avon rubbed his eyes, being bright enough to realise that, poor excuse that it was, it was better than _I was about to be fucked by a sex-toy with your face on it._

Blake spent ten minutes looking unsuccessfully for the probe. Avon was just about to give a huge sigh of relief, throw him out, and get on with his own personal entertainment for the evening, when a loud bump sounded inside the cupboard.

_Oh fuck,_ he thought.

“What was that?” Blake asked.

“What was what?”

Bump.

“There it goes again. It’s definitely coming from within that cupboard. Come on then, open it up.” Blake paused. “I’m sure you can’t have too many really shocking secrets, can you, Avon?”

Avon was silent.

“Go on, I dare you!” Long experience of Blake suggested he wasn’t going to go away.

Avon sighed, opened the cupboard, and manhandled the thing so it was facing away from Blake.

“It’s an android I was working on, Blake,” he said.

“Not bad. Can I see? I bet it’s an interesting engineering problem.”

Avon stood aside. _Well, he can see it has curly hair, but it’s in shadow in the cupboard._

The android fell to its knees, blundered forward into the room at a crawl, and stood up, its erection clearly visible.

“Roj wants a fuck,” it said, politely.

_Oh no. Oh god. I did everything else right, but I forgot to deactivate the damn thing._ He tried to faint, or sink through the floor. Failing those options, he sat down on the bed and hid his face in his hands.

“Pleased to meet you, Roj,” Blake said innocently. “Didn’t know I had a relative, even mechanical.”

Avon peeped between shaky fingers. Blake was shaking hands with it, then wiping his hand on his leg.

“A bit wet,” he said, in the same normal tone of voice. “Were you about to use it now?”

“Fuck,” agreed the android. “Fuck now. Done fingers...” it neatly mimicked moving one finger, then two, then three. “...now time fuck.”

Avon said, levelly, over the sound of Blake’s laughter, “I am going to disassemble that thing with my bare hands, and I wish I’d programmed it to feel pain when I do it.”

“No need. Looks as though you’ve done a good job,” Blake said. “I’m not surprised you revised version 1.1 of the cock. Could have done somebody some damage, the previous size. Besides, it’s a much better imitation of me at that size, though as far as I know you haven’t seen me hard.”

“Hard,” agreed the android. “Big, hard cock.” It reached forward and undid Blake’s trousers.

_Well, at least I know Blake has an embarrassment threshold now,_ Avon thought, as Blake went red, but valiantly said “Not a bad guess at all, Avon, look. Only about a centimetre’s difference between them,” he said, lining himself up with his copy.

Avon moaned softly, and buried his head in his hands again, panting.

“What was that, Avon?” Blake asked. “Oh, and by the way, Roj thinks you’ve been a little neglected.”

That was all the warning he got before he was being enthusiastically masturbated. A moment later, a couple of fingers slid up his arse. He needed to stop and throw Blake out, but on the other hand he’d been aching for it for half an hour, and there it was, just the way he liked it, two plump fingers in his arse, a firm hand in front, another hand stroking his balls and another tweaking his nipples...

Realising, even with his sex-fogged brain, that there was something odd about this, Avon opened his eyes. He couldn’t tell which...

“Deactivate,” he said, and the light went out of one pair of eyes, while one pair of hands relaxed. “Well, that sorts out which is which.” Rather to his surprise, the fingers up his arse were still thrusting away. Ah. Saying it was the android had been psychological warfare. “Blake,” he said, “stop taking advantage of me immediately, at least if you want me to last long enough for you to take advantage of me with your cock.”

Blake slid the fingers out, and took the android’s limp hands away from Avon. He let the android fall to the floor with a thump.

“Thousands of credits’ worth of unsurpassable programming,” Avon muttered.

“I come cheaper. It doesn’t come at all, from what I saw of the first day you had it.”

“Nearly right,” said Avon. “I taught it to ejaculate, but I haven’t got it right yet... Anyway, how the hell did you find out?”

“Well, I didn’t believe Orac when I asked him what you were doing lately and he told me...”

“I know exactly what I would like to do to that computer if it were less valuable.”

“And since I told him I didn’t believe him several times—he’s touchy about being disbelieved, have you noticed?—he said he could get Zen to video what you were doing in your room. I got a lovely view.”

Avon didn’t miss the way Blake’s cock stiffened even more at the idea. “In love with yourself. Should have guessed by the way you tape your own political speeches.”

“More something about being able to watch you being fucked,” Blake said. “I think it was the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen in my life. Actually, I’ve got a bit of a fantasy, it’s a pity...” He trailed off, looking sheepish.

“Out with it, Blake,” Avon said.

“Well, I’d love to watch that thing going at you, just once more--I know it’s impossible, you’ve given up on your toy...” He gave up in a welter of mumbling and blushing.

_Well, if he embarrassed me, it looks as if it goes both ways,_ Avon thought.

“Maybe I should encourage you to give up your normal centre-stage position for once, Blake,” Avon said lightly, “and I had intended to give the thing one last good ride before I put it away.” He leaned over the edge of the bed. “Activate,” he said.

After one brief false start when the android tried to prepare to fuck Blake, at which Blake got rather huffy and said he didn’t intend to take narcissism quite that far, Avon got things back on track by getting on his hands and knees with his arse in the air. That gave the android enough of a clue. Blake just lay on the bed and got, from the expression on his face, quite an eyeful.

“Make me come,” Avon commanded. Two hands collided in front of him. Unfortunately, the winner was the android, and it hadn’t learned _anything._ Dead still. _Artificial stupidity,_ Avon thought. _You can’t beat it._ “Relax your hand,” he said to the android, and removed the limp hand from his far-from-limp cock.

“You may have noticed that my toy doesn’t make an especially good job of masturbating me. I sincerely hope you can do better,” Avon said to Blake. “Blake?” he continued, “stop drooling on the pillow and get on with making me come.”

Instead of masturbating him, Blake simply wriggled into the space underneath him and pulled him down. _Oh, yes!_ Avon thought. Plenty of hot skin wrapped around him was just what was wanted. After a little gestural encouragement, the android got the hang of keeping going without squashing its partners. Blake wriggled. Avon just indulged himself in complete stillness. A cock was hammering away at him behind, and he was getting a cross between cuddling and frottage in front. Bliss. He’d like the Blake up his arse to come all over him, and that wasn’t going to happen for some reason, but the one in front was wonderfully hard, poking against his belly...

Blake nibbled at his earlobe and whispered. “Enjoying it, are you?”

Avon would have been able to answer that, despite being wildly aroused, if Blake hadn’t reached down at the same moment, not quite masturbating him but rubbing his thumb gently over the head of Avon’s cock.

His response to that was, of course, completely non-verbal if fairly expressive. It was also sticky, messy and all over Blake, but luckily Blake didn’t seem to mind, being busy doing the same thing.

The android, of course, instantly lost consciousness and collapsed heavily upon them. “What’s happened to the damn thing?” Blake muttered.

“When I come, it switches off—and it _would_ have to do it now, when I’m happy,” Avon protested, with difficulty and whatever breath he had left. _Damn,_ he thought, _I didn’t have the chance to work on that mysterious sexual fantasy, because the minute I came I didn’t have time to be miserable._

It took two of them to put the thing back on the floor, after which, by unspoken consent, they both got back into bed and dozed off.

Avon woke up a while later. “Sticky,” he complained, prodding Blake in the ribs.

Blake, pausing only to trip over the android (“Who left that there?”), went and ran a shower, which Avon took advantage of. Both their erections came back under the influence of the shower, or possibly the close proximity. When they were both clean, Avon found fresh sheets and changed the bed. Blake cuddled up to him. Avon tried to be strong-minded and remember he only had this pair of sheets clean, but he found it difficult. He pretended to go to sleep.

A voice whispered in his ear, “Roj wants a fuck.” It wasn’t the android. Blake was grinning lecherously at him. His lips twitched with a reluctant smile, and he went to get the spare towels, lying down on them carefully.

“Clean and tidy, Avon? All right,” Blake said cheerfully, opening the pot of lubricant, “I won’t drip this stuff on the sheets.” Considering his mission appeared to be to put the entire potful inside Avon’s body, he didn’t. Avon moaned, excited by the decadent excess of it, Blake taking a long time to work him up, stretch him out. He shouldn’t be feeling quite this interested by his second go, but he had the feeling Blake was good at subverting what was likely to happen into what he wanted to happen.

By the time Blake finally got round to it, he was swearing into the pillow, or possibly begging Blake to get on with it. “Let’s see how I measure up,” Blake sighed, sliding in. He had to admit that although he’d had no complaint to make at the time, the real thing was slightly, subtly, different. A different amount of give, of play, in the cock sliding into him, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly soft. The android had moved slowly, Blake moved as though it was an effort to slow down. The fact that this was a living thing made a surprising amount of difference: Blake was gasping in his ear, heart pounding against his back. Even the fact that Blake didn’t know exactly how he liked it, that was erotic too. No challenge, with a toy. He’d never needed to tell it about how the angle wasn’t quite...if it was a bit rougher... and when it occurred to him to, half-ashamed, whisper these details to Blake, the reward was immediate. Blake didn’t seem to be at all embarrassed about being told, just angled himself where he was wanted, grinding his cock into place as Avon whimpered mindlessly, and after a little of that, just went harder and faster anyway, harder and faster and so deliciously wet inside him, Blake was going to come in him, and just as it gushed into him, Blake fumbled underneath them, masturbating Avon’s cock in time with his own orgasm. Avon humped up against him, yelling with pleasure as he came ferociously, and collapsed in a wet and very satisfied heap. But he’d come just about as hard as that with the android, and a small part of his mind waited for the misery to turn up.

Blake checked him over, wiped them both, and took him in his arms. Avon cuddled back, and sank down on Blake’s shoulder in utter satisfaction. It felt so _good_ to be warm, to have Blake to hold, and he was just about to drift off when Blake said, “I’m glad you’re a bit more civilised with a man. You were a bit rough with the android, afterwards.”

“Oh, that was because I really wanted you, and it couldn’t cuddle,” Avon said, without thinking.

_Good god. That was it. Something this simple, not extreme sadomasochism at all._ Avon’s pride winced. Then he looked Blake in the face and forgot to feel humiliated.

“A lovely evening, Avon,” Blake said, “but no more androids, all right? I’ll help you disassemble that thing tomorrow...”

“Oh, you will, will you?” Avon demanded, rather piqued at the way Blake always seemed to take charge.

“Look,” Blake said amiably, “even you were getting tired of it, and I won’t put up with it: I refuse to be mistaken for anything that’s going to get stuffed in a cupboard.”

Avon’s mouth twitched, “But I never did it in a _cupboard...”_ he protested mildly.

“I must be tired,” Blake said. “I actually didn’t realise that was a double-entendre till you said that. And no sex in cupboards,” he said, “it’ll ruin your back.”

“More seriously,” Avon said, “I still think it’s a brilliant piece of work, and what if I miss it?” Avon smirked evilly.

“I admit it’s a stunning piece of work, the programming and the engineering,” Blake said. He paused. “Let me help disassemble it, and the next time you miss it, I’ll just fuck your brains out.”

“That would be acceptable, Blake,” Avon admitted, and yawned hugely. He’d always prided himself on his ability to deal with life as it was. Even if his fantasy had turned out to be humiliatingly...ordinary, he’d have to cope. Getting fucked as often as he liked (which seemed to be fairly often). Cuddling Blake. Apparently liking Blake. Oh, the shame. He’d just have to put up with it.

“What are you smirking about, Avon?”

“Shut up and go to sleep, Blake,” Avon said.


End file.
